


Hands On Approach

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dubious Consent, Other, Slime, Slime monster, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5018854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford knows for a fact that Gravity Falls is filled with beings that he has yet to see.  Perhaps some he never will.  Nonetheless, he wants to experience as much as can.  He doesn't always enjoy taking a hands on approach to his research, but every once in a while he is surprised to find things that aren't planned can turn out better than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands On Approach

Despite all the strange locations, otherworldly relics, and odd (and dangerous) creatures lurking in Gravity Falls, there were times Stanford couldn’t help but feel a bit bored.

Well, perhaps bored wasn’t the right word.  New occurrences showed up all the time.  He never ran out of new things to research and experiment with.  Yet, there were some times he wanted a change of pace.  Something even more different than what had become his norm.  As much as he may have tried to strive for it in his youth, Stanford couldn’t quite do normal anymore.  With all the things he seen, the things he read, he knew so much more was out there.

He wanted to experience as much he could.

So when he packed a small bag one day and said he was going a bit farther south than usual, Stanley and Fiddleford didn’t think twice.  His assistant merely nodded, saying something about putting the finishing touches on a new piece of equipment.  Stan, on the other hand, eagerly wanted to tag along.  Despite his dislike (read: annoyance and disdain) of a many of the local monsters, there were a few he genuinely liked.  And even if Stanley didn’t get to chat up the Multi-Bear, punting a few pesky gnomes always served as a good time.

But Stanford didn’t plan on taking a hands on approach that day.  So he waved off his brother with a long winded spiel about tedious notes, minute detail sketches, and silent observation which served its purpose.  Stanley practically shooed him out the door, hushing him with talk of doing something much more interesting than “sitting in the bushes and waiting for another lovechild of coffee and nightmares.”

Pack slung over one shoulder and journal stowed safely, Stanford made his way down one of the old paths, weeds and gnarled branches nearly over coming it. He ducked beneath a rather low hanging branch when he heard it; a wet, slithering sound through the grass. When he paused, eyes darting every which way. He could have sworn he heard a sort of slurping mixed with the other noises.  

Stanford turned about, seeing nothing but streams of sunlight cutting through the thick trees overhanging the path when they stopped.  He frowned and took a few steps back the way he came, tilting his head to peer behind a few of the trees closer to the path.  As he did so, the sticky, wet noises started again.  An excitement rose in his gut, a smile worming its way to his mouth  He had yet to document a creature that might resemble whatever was making the noises.  

Perhaps some sort of tentacled beast?  A gelatinous cube?

His brow furrowed as the noises halted once more.  

Of course hearing it and seeing it were two different things. 

Stanford stepped closer toward the tree line, ducking his head beneath a rather low hanging branch to take a peek further off the path.  Nothing but trees, rocks, and the stray fallen trunk.  Without a second thought, he began pushing his way deeper.  He stepped over stray twigs in his path, eyes flickering about for a sign of…of something.  Something wet or slimy, perhaps even some sort of jelly-like creature.

His brow pinched at the thought, almost too absorbed for a moment before he heard it again; that sticky, wet noise.  A grin spread across his lips.  The sounds were louder, definitely closer.  Taking extra caution with his steps, Stanford slowed his pace.  The grip on his pack tightened as the sounds continued to grow seemingly closer.  With the path a ways back and the forest a tangled mess, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  

His grin dropped into a deep frown, but he continued.  The woods started to thin and sunlight cut through easier than on the path, but it seemed to help little even if the odd sounds continued just as they had been.  Too focused on his objective seemingly in arms reached, Stanford didn’t notice it slowly slinking closer until it coiled about his ankle.

Stanford yelped and would have fallen face first into the dirt if not for the tension on what grabbed him.  One look over his shoulder told him he that he found his mystery creature.  He hadn’t been too far off with the gelatinous cube hypothesis, but it certainly wasn’t a cube by any means. 

Simply put, the creature looked to be nothing more than an undulating mass of pink slime.  Its form shined somewhat under the stray rays of sunlight.  He could see through it well enough, being able to vaguely make out the brush behind it.  Yet as pliable and transparent as it was, he couldn’t make out a single bone or muscle.  Hell, he couldn’t even see a rock or leaf stuck inside.

The slime pulled on his leg again, a bit gentler than before but still enough to stagger him again.  Stanford’s arms shot out to his sides with a slight wave.  Despite seeming to be nothing more than a glop of overgrown silly putty, the slime had quite a grip.  He could feel his sock and pant leg growing damp. Yet despite its grip on him, knowing that could wrap itself so easily around him with such controlled strength, Stanford couldn’t quite find it in himself to fight back in the slightest.  It seemed gentle enough.  Especially considering how it started to lower his foot back onto the woods’ floor.  

If anything, he felt excited.  A heat pulled low in his gut as he slowly turned to face the slime while still in its grasp.  Able to move with ease, it accommodated for his movements as though he were talking through water.  Obviously it was intelligent to some extent.  Perhaps not capable of speech considering it had no real, well, anything.  It was literally just a large, dark pink ooze.  But that didn’t seem to stop it from inching closer, the stretch of slime that grasped his now wet ankle merely absorbed into the rest of its form.

Stanford sucked in a deep breath before slowly shrugging off his pack and gently tossing it to the side.  The last thing he need was his journal getting ruined along with his other supplies.  The oozeling didn’t seem startled by any means.  Instead it gave a low noise like pot starting to boil.  Yet it still felt the same; a bit cool, a bit sticky, and mostly wet.  

He cleared his throat as the bubbling creature continued to collapse in on itself.  If it weren’t for its docile movements, he would have thought it to be stalking him like prey.  

“Ah…hello?”  He questioned with a raised brow.

The slime stopped but inches from his feet, the edges of it still pooling forward.  All sound and movement seemed to still.  Stanford nervously cleared his throat, his gut churning a bit more.  

“Can you understand me..?”

Maybe he needed to try Spanish.

“¿Me entiendes?” 

The ooze gave a brief and light bubbling noise.  It began to pool over his shoes as the tendril on his ankle started to grow, creeping up his shin and onto his thigh.  He moved to take a step back with wide eyes, but the creature didn’t seem to agree with him.  Instead, a new piece of it leeched off and coiled about his other ankle with the same strong, yet coaxing grip.  Stanford paused and took another breath.  It didn’t seem to be corroding anything beneath it, and it certainly didn’t seem to be harming him.  If anything, the slime seemed to be doing its best to do the exact opposite.

Stanford ran his tongue over his bottom lip.  He might not have intended to take a hands on approach today, but very few things could one up positive interactions with an anomaly that sought _him_ out.  With that thought in mind, he put off any further thoughts of escaping.  If the slime wanted to keep him around for a bit, then so be it.  He certainly didn’t plan on turning down that opportunity.

The slime tugged on his ankle once more, as though urging him toward itself.  He moved with the tendril and shivered as the one on his thigh curled toward his hip.  It slipped beneath the edge his shirt, almost teasing the strip of skin.  Stanford let out a soft hiss.  He certainly wasn’t off when he thought it to be slimy.  But the chill wasn’t quite as bad as he imagined.

The oozeling’s grip on his ankle continued up that thigh as well, curling about it in a lax fashion.  Both tendrils on either side then tugged down in an urging manner.  Stanford moved with it once more, dropping to his knees before the creature as it moved back to give him space.  He let out a shaky breath and could feel the heat rise up his neck.  He bit back a moan as the tendril on his hip continued up his shirt, leaving a wet trail as it inched toward his chest.  

Stanford couldn’t be more glad that Stanley didn’t go with him.  There was no way he could possibly explain to him, or anyone else for that matter, why he was letting himself be posed by a pink blob.  Though considering how friendly it was acting, he knew it wouldn’t stick to that for much longer.  The growing bulge in his pants only bolstered the notion.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before.  When someone studied creatures that most people could never dream of, they tended to think about many things including why they exist to begin with.  How do they multiply? Breeding is the most common thought, but how does it happen?  What sort of sex organs could a cycloptopus have?  What about the manotaurs for that matter?  And in that moment, Stanford desperately wanted to know what the slime toying with him could do.

A third tendril broke free from the rest of its form.  It reached forward and dragged itself across the crotch of his pants, pausing when it reached the bottom to curl the tip between his legs.  Stanford moaned, letting his head fall to the side.  The rope of ooze continued over his rump, growing as it did so.  He could feel the slime rubbing against his crotch as it continued.  The one on his thigh then stretched across his stomach with a pale pink trail in its wake while the one underneath his shirt found one of his nipples.

Stanford gave a breathy gasp.  The slime itself began to quietly bubble again, seeming quite pleased for something with no face or voice.  The rope of slime across his stomach began to fumble with the button of his pants.  Though when he moved to help open it, the slime pulled away from his chest and caught his wrist.  Another flash of excitement jolted down his spine.  

It made quick work of his button and zipper before the two tendrils that then rested across his stomach took the edge of his shirt into a gooey grip and peeled it off his frame in a smooth, steady motion.  It landed beside Stanford’s pack, long since forgotten.  He gave a soft moan, reeling with the slick feeling of the slime as the two pieces melded into one and curled about his chest, the tip resting against the hollow of his throat.  The tail end of his moan broke out into a sharp cry of pleasure as the nearly forgotten one at the seat of his pants dipped beneath the edge.  

His stomach jolted as the slime wormed its way between his cheeks.  A louder moan tore from his throat.  The creature might have been only a pile of sludge, but it certainly knew how to use its form to its advantage. 

The tendril continued to slip into his pants, dragging itself completely between his cheeks and over his testicles before stopping at the base of his cock.  Stanford’s hips jerked forward as it grasped him in a lazy fashion and pulling down the rest of his pants with the length of its faux-limb.  They pooled around his knees, forcing out a soft but sharp gasp as the air hit the sticky trails that the creature had been littering about him as it moved.

Suddenly a ripple shot through the oozeling, and Stanford could feel every vibration.  In his cock, in his balls, and so, so close to his entrance.  Stanford whined and pulled his hips back, dragging himself along the tendril he was straddling.  As he did so, the slime moved in the opposite direction with a stroke of his cock.  All the while, the rope of slime about his chest began to length once more, curling loosely about his throat. 

Stanford panted as he moved his hips forward again.  The creature seemed to catch on and slid backwards once more with another ripple.  He groaned louder this time, not even waiting before jerking his hips backwards, practically humping the tendril.  Lust fogged his mind, all shame long lost.  The wet, gooey feeling of the slime was nearly overwhelming.  The vibrations it created heightened every movement.  And when the rope of ooze about his neck found its way to his lips, Stanford had no intention of stopping then.  He let his mouth fall open with another needy whine, the tip of his tongue lolling out.  The oozeling wasted no time slowly pushing it’s way into his mouth, paying no mind to his teeth or tongue.

Whether it could feel everything they were doing now, Stanford wasn’t sure.  But in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  He needed more.  More movement, more vibration, more everything.  So as the tendril slowly slid back and forth his his mouth, Stanford sucked, dragging his tongue along the bottom side.  A third ripple shot through the creature, and he moaned loud and sharply with another jerk of his hips, doing his best to grind his ass against the rope of slime.  Drool began to drip down his chin along with the sticky wetness of the slime.  

A sort of desperation washed over him.  The rope of ooze in his mouth and around his cock weren’t enough, even if the bits of pre-cum sliding down his length might have said otherwise.  He squeezed his legs closer and rocked back once more, silently hoping the creature would catch on a second time. 

As another vibration let off, the slime pushed itself into him. Stanford cried out the best he could as the rope of slime pushed itself a bit further into his mouth before drawing back.  The tip of it rested against his bottom lip and dripped onto his chest in fat, pink drops.  He panted against the tendril only to cut himself off with a loud gasp as he felt the slime push itself steadily into him.  Just like with the one that had been resting heavily on his tongue mere moments ago, the creature moved slowly and took its time.  Ever gentle yet persistent.  

Even when it pushed against his prostate, forcing a pleasured cry from him, the slime paused for a beat before slowly pulling back out to the tip.  Stanford groaned at the loss.  He wanted to be filled all ready.  While he appreciated the care it was taking, he was still impatient.  Stanford rocked his hips back, only for the rope of ooze to move with him for once.  His eyes screwed shut with another pitiful whine.  

It paused for another brief moment before pushing back in.  As it did so, the slime slowly began to expand.  He stammered out another airy moan as his knees shook.  When it pulled back a third time, Stanford almost feared it would keep its pace.  Instead, it thrust itself back into his mouth and ass.  He nearly choked on the rope in his mouth as it hit the back of his throat, more drool and slime slipping down his chin messily.  Squeezing his thumb, Stanford took every thrust, swallowing about the tendril in his mouth.

The one thrusting into him from behind kept a steady pace, adding a squelching to the mix of choked moans and low bubbling that came from the creature.  The tendril around his cock stroked in time with the other two in sync, and Stanford knew he wouldn’t last much longer.  With a final thrust against his sweet spot and a quick pulse shooting through the ropes of ooze, he came with a loud cry, spilling onto his stomach and the slime creature.  

Suddenly, the creature came to a complete stop.  No rippling, no bubbling, no movement.  Just as a sinking feeling of dread washed over him, Stanford felt the ooze slowly pull free from him.  Left wet and sticky from sweat, cum, and slime, he panted heavily.  As spent as he was, Stanford still kept a steady gaze on the creature.  But instead of suddenly lashing out at him, it instead sucked his cum into itself with a muted slurp before bubbling for a few brief moments.  The odd slime creature then started moving back the way he had came as though not a single thing happened.

Stanford opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely flabbergasted.  A random blob of pink slime followed him into the woods and essentially wordlessly talked him into having some of the best sex he had.  He rolled off his knees and onto his back, pulling up his pants with a heavy sigh.

He came out that day with no intentions of taking a hands on approach to his research.  He just wanted to find something new and exciting.  Stanford may had only accomplished one of those, but he couldn’t be more pleased with the results. 


End file.
